


If I Only Could Make a Deal with God (and Get Him to Swap Our Places)

by heeroluva



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, K/S Advent Calendar, M/M, Post Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 14:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Spock had stayed with Jim after the end of the five year mission, rather than going to Gol? What if they had bonded? What if Spock had died shortly after? What then?</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Only Could Make a Deal with God (and Get Him to Swap Our Places)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ksadvent. I wanted to do a different take on a holiday fic. Thanks to notboldly50295 for the beta. All mistakes are mine. Feel free to let me know if you see any. As always feedback is appreciated.

Jim remembered a time when Christmas was a happy occasion, when it was full of laughter, gift-giving, and—on several occasions—hot sex. But that was a lifetime ago.

Feeling the bond break was the most horrible thing he had ever experienced. It had happened on Christmas with the crew gathered together for a final celebration before they went their separate ways. The pain in his mind was so great that he feared he was having a stroke, and as unconsciousness overcame him, a horrible sense of despair washed over him. When he awoke to complete emptiness in his mind and Bones sitting beside his bed somber and drawn, Jim knew what had happened before Bones even spoke.

“Spock’s ship was attacked. He’s dead, Jim.”

Bones had voiced that phrase hundreds of times in the years that he had worked as Jim’s CMO, but they had never been as painful as they were in that instant. A part of himself was missing, a part that he had only recently found, and now he would never have that back.

Jim and Spock had agreed not to tell anyone. There were already enough rumors about their relationship as it was, but while there was no regulation against relationships between officers, they both valued their privacy, and did not relish the thought of the publicity that such an admission would draw.

But one look at Bones, and Jim could tell the doctor knew.

“How did you know?”

“Your neuro scans are comparative to a Vulcan who has lost their mate. Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your doctor, and furthermore your friend.” Despite the words there was no admonishment in his tone, only compassion.

Jim swallowed thickly. “It was still new. Just a few months.”

Bones raised a brow.

“Oh, don’t tell me that you believed those rumors.”

Bones had the good grace to look guilty.

“We just wanted to keep it private, and I’ll admit, I didn’t want to share it with anyone. I had the silly fear that if I talked to anyone about it, I would spoil it somehow, that it would tarnish.” Jim gave a self-depreciating laugh. “Doesn’t matter now. He’s gone.” He laughed again, wildly. Freezing, he met Bones’ eyes. “Spock’s dead, Bones,” he said with childlike simplicity.

And then he was sobbing, and Bones’ arms were wrapped around him. Jim felt his friend’s shoulders shake as well, though he made no sound. He wasn’t sure how long they embraced, but when he finally pulled away he was drained, feeling more empty and numb than when he awoke. Suddenly exhausted, he drifted off, not noticing as Bones pulled the blanket over him.

When he awoke again, it was in a panic as he realized that the bond was gone, but he couldn’t remember why. Feeling the sting of a hypo, he opened his eyes to find a sorrowful Bones standing over him. As it all came rushing back to him, he sobbed out, “He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.” Over and over again. And thus began the cycles that lasted for days… weeks? Jim wasn’t sure. He’d lost track of time.

There were times that he wished that they could have switched places, that Spock had been the one still alive because he had such a long life ahead of him, had so much more to offer. But then Jim realized that he would not wish this hell on anyone, and he was glad that Spock did not have to face this.

In the end Bones had to engineer a drug similar to that which some Vulcans required after the loss of their mate due to inability to control their emotions. While such extreme emotional variance was normal in humans after the death of a loved one, Jim’s continued reactions to waking and finding the bond gone were not. Jim hadn’t wanted to take any drugs, but in the end he had relented, knowing that he couldn’t go on as he was.

A month after Spock’s death, things changed. Jim began hearing Spock’s voice. It started off slow enough, with him swearing he heard Spock call his name while he was alone. That continued for a few days before Spock began making statements about random things around him, things that Jim knew he had no knowledge of. He truly thought he was going crazy when—while admonishing a cadet for a code violation—he stated, “The course of action was illogical.” Then he stated the regulation in question verbatim, and while he knew it, had just read it, he could not have had memorized it so clearly.

It was another month before he allowed himself to talk to Bones about it, fearing that at any moment he would start conversing with ‘Spock’, which would mean that he’d completely lost his mind. Bones hadn’t known what to make of it, could find nothing wrong with Jim, and it wasn’t until Bones had found a Vulcan healer that they finally found the answer.

As unprecedented as it was, Spock’s katra, his very soul, had spanned the light years that had separated them to again be with Jim. The healer was baffled, but Jim had just spoken one word with reverence. “Spock,” he breathed.

Feeling the sudden warmth that partially filled the emptiness that had consumed him these past months, a tender, _T’hy’la_ greeted him, and Jim smiled, a truly happy smile for the first time in months.

However, the happiness wasn’t to last. Sarek demanded the return of Spock’s katra to him, so that they could properly maintain it. _Harvest it for information_ Spock supplied at Jim’s confusion. Jim had of course instantly refused.

But Sarek and the other Vulcans were not so easily refused and threatened to cause a diplomatic scene if Jim did not return their ‘property’. Jim had bristled at the term. No one could own a soul. When confronted with this, Starfleet had ordered Jim to comply. He had little choice but to comply. He could run, but he wouldn’t get far, and he knew he had nowhere to go. Throughout the ordeal Spock had remained calm, ensuring him that ‘all would remain well’. Jim had scoffed, but he was truly terrified that they would take the last vestiges of Spock from him.

When T’Pau had approached him to do the transfer to the Katric ark–a glorified jar, Jim thought with little amusement–Spock tried to comfort him, pouring warmth and reassurance through him, but he could not be calm in this situation. As T’Pau’s hand rested against his face, he trembled, expecting searing pain as she ripped Spock from him. He did not expect her to jerk away.

“T’hy’la,” she breathed, causing the other Vulcans to start.

“Yes,” Jim agreed, not understanding the importance of it.

“T’hy’la are sacred and very rare. They are bound together in life and in death. They cannot be separated.”

Spock had of course explained the meaning of the endearment to him, but apparently he left out that bit.

“Please forgive us this disservice to your bond.” Raising her hand, she intoned, “Live long and prosper.”

Jim did the same with more comfort in the movement than he’d ever experienced before. As the Vulcans took their leave, Jim couldn’t help but feel he was still missing something.

Jim felt Spock’s amusement and affection. _The closest human equivalent would be soulmate, but even that does not truly express its whole meaning._

“Well, I guess you’ll have to teach me.”

 _Yes. We shall begin with the alphabet._

“Now?”

 _Are you currently occupied with something else?_

“No, but—”

 _Then let us begin. Repeat after me…_

 

As the years passed, Jim and Spock grew closer than ever. There was more than one cadet that thought that Jim was crazy as he talked to himself, or when Spock talked through him. The son that Carol Marcus had refused him, David, had sought him out, wanting to know his father, wanting to introduce his new daughter. While he had known about David, it had been startling, not only to suddenly be a father to a grown man, but to find out that he was a grandfather as well.

Spock took great amusement in his discomfort, teasing him about his vanity in old age. Kirk had bristled slightly at the age comment but let it slide. The rich emotions he felt from Spock at times were still startling at moments after all the years of working with the stoic Vulcan. That carefully controlled façade had hidden so much.

Jim was hesitant in telling David about Spock. While it was no longer a secret, it wasn’t a well known or often talked about fact. So when he finally admitted it and David didn’t seem upset, just curious, Jim was relieved.

Jim hadn’t expected to step into the role of doting grandfather so easily , but he had, and little Mika had gotten two grandfathers at the price of one that both loved and spoiled her rotten, to the annoyance of her parents. But that’s what grandparents were supposed to do.

 

Things were not perfect. There were times that Spock’s presence would fade from his mind. The first time it had happened, a year after Spock’s death, Jim had called Bones in a panic, fearing that Spock was gone for good. Bones of course had not been able to find anything wrong or offer any advice. The Vulcans were even baffled, but had ultimately concluded and explained in such a way that Spock would later have to translate that a person cannot cheat death.

He’d lost himself in the bottle that week, feeling more alone than ever. The morning he awoke to find the reassuring warmth back in place, Jim had cried in happiness, but also due to the cruelty that was the bond. It was a blessing in itself, wonderful and otherworldly, but it caused him so much pain. But, he amended, it also gave him great joy.

It was over a week before Spock was about to talk with him again, and yet another week before they could truly converse. Spock could not say exactly what had happened even then.

Spock constantly sent out guilt and regret for causing Jim pain, until Jim began to feel guilty himself. “Look,” Jim snapped. “I forgive you. I’m an ass. Please let’s move on.”

Feeling Spock’s amusement, Jim knew all was better, until the next year, when it happened again… and every year after that.

 

The year was 2308, and so much had changed. Jim felt as though he’d stayed the same as the world evolved around him. He had grown grandchildren now, was even soon to be a great grandfather.

It was once again Christmas. This was the thirty-eighth Christmas he’s spent alone with nothing but booze and Bones. Of course Bones wasn’t there yet, but it was just a matter of time.

He felt selfish because at these times when Spock’s presence was absent from his mind, it was not that mental touch that he missed, but the physical. He hadn’t touched Spock in over thirty-eight years, and while he still had him, it was not the same; humans were a tactile race, after all. It was a matter that had come up multiple times over the years. Jim had avoided the subject for a long time, and it was Spock that ultimately brought the matter up.

 _It is not logical to deny yourself._

“You have got to be kidding me. You want me to go out and have sex with someone.”

 _I wish for you to find pleasure and take comfort in the touch of another –something with which I cannot provide you._

“No,” Jim denied him. “I can’t.”

However, in the end, he had given in multiple times over the years. But while it may have been a relief at the time, he’d always felt guilt afterwards despite never detecting any jealously or ill regard from Spock on the matter.

He tried to remember what Spock’s touch felt like, but it had been too long. Feeling a tightening in his chest, he ignored it, searching his memories, desperate to recall the feeling of Spock’s hand in his own, the slide of skin against skin, how his arms felt wrapped around him. A sudden sharp pain in his chest caused him to gasp.

 _T’hy’la. Jim. Come to me._

“Spock,” he greeted happily, smiling.

 _Come to me, T’hy’la. It is time._

“Time for what? I don’t understand.”

 _Just take my hand, Jim._

“Your hand? I don’t—”

Spock’s hand was suddenly there in front of him, and without thought he grabbed it, let himself be pulled along, and into a tight embrace. He wrapped himself around Spock, grinning widely. He was home.

 

Just like every Christmas since Spock’s death, McCoy knocked on Jim’s door, bottle of good bourbon in hand. Receiving no answer, he knocked again before finally keying in the code to let himself in. It wouldn’t be the first time that Jim had started without him.

Finding Jim sitting still and silent in the dark with a small smile on his face, staring off into space, McCoy knew that he was dead before he even ordered the lights on checked for a pulse. Reaching up, he closed Jim’s eyes. “I hope you’re both happy where ever you are, Jim.” Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, he opened the bottle of bourbon and took a long swig as tears streamed down his face.


End file.
